One of the places included into our walking tour around the Tsaranoro Valley was a “pool” and we reached it by descending for a short while down a path that led from the viewpoint boulder which I mentioned in the previous sequel of the stories on the journey around Madagascar. This is a natural expansion of the bed of a small river that flows down the ravine between Mounts Chameleon and Tsaranoro, so the water gathers here and the place is called the pool. It is probably possible for one to bathe here, but we preferred to take this opportunity to sit on some rocks that were in the shade of trees in order to cool down a little, because as soon as the clouds had dispersed, it became very hot and the Sun was scorching.
The pool and a part of Mount Tsaranoro
When we cooled down a little we got up again following our local guide along a more or less narrow path. Soon we started to approach the village, which concretely meant going across agricultural land that belongs to the village. We occasionally walked through rice fields or rather we walked along narrow belts of land that separate individual paddies filled with water. Although this path was not too narrow, it was important to walk carefully lest one fell into the rice paddy and the water in it.
Path between two rice paddies
Behind us, we were leaving Mount Tsaranoro and the Sacred Forest.
Mount Tsaranoro, while the Sacred Forest is to the right under the cliffs
From here there was also a stunning view at the Tsaranoro Valley itself.
Mount Tsaranoro and the Tsaranoro Valley
But, significantly closer to us, we could see the fields, domestic animals, as well as the people working in these fields.
Rice paddies
A grazing zebu
Field cultivation
Along the way, we also came across a wild animal, but this was just a harmless, small chameleon that moved slowly along the branch of a tree.
Chameleon
When we came very close to the village, I looked back again and again I admired the mighty mountains that rise here.
Mount Chameleon and Mount Tsaranoro
Somewhere close to the entrance into the village from the direction of the pool, when we already started going along a wide dirt path, almost a road, we passed by some muddy water which presumably served there as a reserve for the irrigation of the rice fields, but I must admit that I do not know for certain what this water was for. In any case, the colours were fantastic and the visual effect was, at least to me – impressive.
Mount Tsaranoro
On the other side of the dirt road we were on there was another part of this water reservoir, as well as a mud hut. Whatever it was used for, it was certainly very picturesque.
A detail from the village in the Tsaranoro Valley
As we approached a group of houses in the village, we came across a structure that was architecturally similar to this hut by the water reservoir only this one was higher, while on its roof made of solid material and covered with something like cement it had an interesting crocodile sculpture. Right at the moment when we were descending towards it, there was a common myna (Acridotheres tristis) standing on the back of the “crocodile” and singing at the top of its lovely voice.
Common myna adjusting its tune
This building was very interesting and as far as I understood our guide it was used for a shepherd. ??? The guide spoke English, but it was rather wobbly and I would understand him from time to time, but occasionally, as in this case, I could not make heads or tails of what he was saying. I even asked him twice, but in both cases I got the same, unclear, response. Never mind. The building was there, it seemed authentic and semi-traditional (I don’t believe that cement belongs to truly traditional building materials here) and it was certainly picturesque, so I took a photo of it and everything was fine.
A detail from the village in the Tsaranoro Valley
The route we were following soon brought us to a proper dirt road and there we were met by several young girls who offered us some necklaces. Both Sneža and I had the impression that we were the only foreign visitors in the entire valley of Tsaranoro, so it was clear that these children literally waited just for the two of us. There, on the dusty dirt road they were trying to sell something to these two foreign women, leaving impression that they, i.e., their families really needed any possible small income they could make in this way. Although these children seemed very well fed, some of them were quite clean and well dressed, while some others had dirt on their face and wore dirty clothes, so Sneža and I felt pity and bought a couple of those necklaces, while I took the opportunity to make a few photos.
Children from the village in the Tsaranoro Valley
Even though I certainly did not need those necklaces at all, I decided to buy them so that I could give some money to the children by paying for something, rather than giving them money as if they were beggars. In a way, I see this also as an educational thing, in terms that money should be earned, or perhaps I’m just philosophising. On the other hand, I’m convinced that nothing is spontaneous, natural and totally “innocent” here, but rather at least some of these children-vendors are prepped up almost by proper “stylists.” For instance, the photo above shows a small girl who is wearing a bunch of twigs on her head. While travelling around Madagascar we often saw women carrying big bunches of twigs and branches on their respective heads as proper load and they were taking this from one place to another, probably finding this manner easier than carrying the same load on their backs or in their hands. However, nowhere did we see a single woman who carried branches or twigs on her head as an ornament. Therefore, it is very easy to presume that somebody arranged these twigs on the little girl’s head since she seemed more picturesque for foreign visitors in this way and thus it may be assumed that those foreign visitors would like to take a photo of the girl and then give her some money. In other words, those “stylists” were spot on in their assumptions. That was exactly what happened (except that I bought those, for me, completely useless necklaces).
So, after that dirt road, we entered a “centre” of the village and there once again I looked back at the mountains that had remained behind us.
Mount Chameleon and Mount Tsaranoro – view from the village
As we were walking between the houses, a few more children appeared offering necklaces, but Sneža and I were not really interested in buying more trinkets which we would not know what to do with. But, between the two of us we joked saying that those girls from the dirt road turned out to be smarter than those here in the village since they were the first ones to approach us with their offer.
Walking between the houses and taking photos, I caught with my camera a young woman who almost shyly, but very interestedly and inquisitively, peered from behind her house.
A house in the village in the Tsaranoro Valley
While I was hanging around, taking photos, she eventually dared “approach” us and I finally asked her if I could take a photo of her. She agreed.
During this journey I dared for the first time ask people if I could take a photo of them, inspired by the example of an acquaintance of mine from Poland who often takes photos of people during his travels, thus making a fantastic documentation on the diversity of the human kind. On Madagascar, most people agree to this, although some do not, some do it just like that, while some others expect or ask for monetary compensation.
As for the money, my advice for a journey around Madagascar is to have a large supply of small notes, especially when going through a village or close to a village because sooner or later that money may be needed. Madagascar is a poor country and people there get by in different ways. Foreign visitors are particularly interesting as a source of income – whether something is being sold to them or the person is just begging. Even our driver Rija had small banknotes ready when we went to Morondava and back (those were banknotes of 100 ariaries (1 euro is 4000 ariaries)) and he gave that from time to tome to some beggars along the road telling us that he chose whom to give the money to as he apparently knew who was poor indeed and who needed help, and who did not. For instance, in several places we came across children who used earth to fill out potholes that had appeared on the road over time and that seemed as if these children were doing a good thing and a service to those passing there in cars. However, Rija told us that some children in fact first make the potholes, i.e., they destroy the road and then apparently appear as if repairing it in order to get some money for it. In his words, he does not give them any money, but there are some other people seen by the road who are truly poor and he gives money to them. Needless to say, the two of us had no way of seeing the difference among those different people we drove by. By the way, perhaps a Malagasy can do by giving a 100-ariary bill to somebody who is begging or expecting small unofficial reward, but foreign visitors are expected to cough up no less than 1000 or 2000 ariaries. There is no upper limit, of course.
As for this new interest of mine regarding the taking photos of people, I must admit that I find ALL those people I made photos of to be very beautiful, some even exceptionally so (!!!), and it made me truly happy that they were obliging me by giving me consent to get their photos and I utterly enjoyed this human diversity and beauty. I see my photos and the motif in their background as an ode to the human kind in all of its varied forms. The fact is, though, that for me and my eyes everything in Madagascar was different, I could even say exotic. But, on the other hand I am also fully aware that visitors here, just like me (since obviously I was not the only one to take photos of people here), perhaps in a way abuse the kindness, unspoiled nature and maybe even poverty of the local population.
What do you think would happen if in America or Europe I wanted to take portrait photos of people in the street? I think there would immediately be panic why I want to do it, if I have a permit for something like that, what I want to do with the photos, whether I have a written consent of the people in the photos with all my obligations that I will not use the photos for any questionable purposes, there would be a lawyer and/or police asking questions about my violating of the privacy of those people, etc. And if I even thought of taking photos of children, all of this would be augmented multiple times. And then I wonder, taking into account that I KNOW that my intentions are completely pure and filled only with admiration for those people who have “posed” for me, whether the Western civilisation is right and only cautious or whether it has become (rightfully or not) paranoid and on the way to lose its primal innocence and humanity.
Be as it may, this young woman from the village in the Tsaranoro Valley is exceptionally beautiful, isn’t she?
Beautiful young woman with the face of a child
When I was ready to move on, I waved at them and shouted: “Veloma!,” meaning “good-bye”, and I even managed to take a photo of this young woman who smilingly waved back to me, as well as of another young woman with a baby and a couple of girls we did not buy necklaces from.
Mutual parting and waving in the village in the Tsaranoro Valley
If you look closely, you can also see in the photo above a pot in which the lunch of the day was being cooked and it was placed on a small furnace. This is obviously a standard way of preparing the food here and a little farther on in front of another house I had an even better view at this type of a “cooking stove.”
The lunch is almost ready
Soon after we returned with our guide back to the house where a few hours earlier we had bought the tickets and from where we had started with the walking tour on that day. We parted with him there and then following the main dirt road we headed back towards the camp at which we were staying. It was very hot. The clouds could mostly be seen only above the line of the horizon, not above our heads, while the Sun scorched. No wonder, for at those geographic latitudes where we were moving during those days and in that period of the year the Sun is seemingly right above one’s head at noon and therefore there is only a shadow directly under the object exposed to the sunrays. Walking along the road, I kept looking around trying to find with my gaze where it would be best to record an example of the “absence of shadow,” so I finally found it with a metal “pole” that was standing beside the road.
The shadow exists only directly under the pole, since the Sun is right above it
When we got back to the camp, I looked once again at the heights that surround the Tsaranoro Valley. The sights were spectacular!
Mount Chameleon and Mount Tsaranoro
Pic Dondy, 2195 m high, and Mount Chameleon belong to the Andringitra Massif
Taking into account how hot it was, we first went to our room to take a shower and cool down a little and then we went to the restaurant where we got refreshed and started with the afternoon idling.
As the time passed, the clouds started to pile up, plus there were more and more of the cumulus clouds that bring rain.
Afternoon piling up of rainy clouds
Still, at some point I had enough of that idling, so I asked the girl at the reception how we could go to the cascades I knew were relatively close. She showed me, so I convinced Sneža relatively easily that we should go for a short walk. In the garden behind the restaurant and the terrace we came across a piece of land used for the growing of pineapples.
Pineapple garden with Mount Chameleon in the background
Then the path took us to a dam which we were supposed to walk over. The girl from the reception said this quite clearly and she explained it all nicely. Still, a little confused, Sneža and I took our shoes off, then took the shoes in our hands and started to walk along the top of the concrete dam. We walked very slowly.
The dam, with the Andringitra Massif in the background